


From Overnight Shifts

by Librani



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Black Reader, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21996880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Librani/pseuds/Librani
Summary: You: Queen of the underground business of stealing shit that you ain't got no business stealing.Tony Stark: King of catching people who steal his shit.Peter Parker: Prince of just wanting to catch a break.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Original Female Character, Tony Stark/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 81





	1. Maintenance Work

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> This is the redux version of "From Overnights Shifts to 9 to 5" that I decided to start over with
> 
> If you're an old reader, welcome back! It's gonna be a little different around here, but the characters are going to be the same plus some new faces.
> 
> If you're new, thank you for joining me on this adventure!

You pop a cheese-doodle into your mouth as you swing your legs from the eight-story building roof that looms over 32nd Avenue, directly above a little quaint jewelry shop. It’s not as chilly as the weather report said it was, but you still tighten the hood over your hair bonnet.

The night is busy, something quite unusual for this little strip in Queens. Cops are posted all over the place, making your life harder.

Your eye twinkle as you scroll down the contacts on your 2003 Razr looking burner phone.

Harder, but not impossible.

“Pookie!” You purr into the phone, dusting the cheese specks from your casual Not-Too-Difficult-Of-A-Crime fit. “Darling, can you do me a favor? You owe me, I gave you so much shit for the baby shower!”

As the man on the other phone drowns your ear out with excuses, you suit your hands up with the weapon chosen for tonight: gloves with dangerously sharp nails. They’re a little worn out, much to your dismay, but that’s what nights like tonight are for.

“Create a distraction on 32nd and I’ll give you a third of what I get tonight.”

A sigh is heard on the other side before a sudden click that ends the call. You smirk to yourself as you quickly down the rest of the cheese-doodles and plug your ears with some headphones.

You wait silently, looking away at the horizon where all the Manhattan lights shine. Something is always going on over there, something that can put a little bit more bread in your pocket. But _no_ , you have to be in  _ Queens _ out of all places to do some  _ maintenance _ work.

“I hate this borough.” You pout to yourself.

_ ‘Attention 43rd district, we have a suspected robbery on 44th Avenue. Suspects are armed. Requesting all backup.’ _

The cops in your sight quickly vanish.

“Thank you, Pookie!” You yell to nobody in particular as you remove the headphones. You roll back onto the roof and start stretching out your back. A sickly crack comes from your spine and your eyes oblong in relief.

“Let’s make this quick.”

You make your way down the fire escape of all eight floors before coming down to the side of the building where the street light is broken, perfectly camouflaging you from any curious eyes. With a quiet and quick flip, you land on the concrete floor. A yawn escapes your mouth as you take one of your nails to create a neat opening circle on the glass window big enough so your body can ease into the store. 

The lights are dim, but your oblong eyes adjust to the darkness. Rows and rows of fake jewelry line your sight. With an irritated huff, you jump over the counter and start picking the lock of a door with your nails. It takes longer than usual due to the dullness of your nails, but it still gets the job done.

The room is filled with gems and rhinestones that twinkle even in the dark. You almost skip towards the row filled with diamonds, eyeing them each individually before just shoving them all in your backpack. 

You’re in your element, blocking out the outside world and focusing on your growing wealth.

“Excuse me.”

Until you realize you’re not alone.

“Hey, excuse me? Mind putting those back for me, please?”

You instinctively tighten the hood around your face to secure your identity before facing the stranger, your body ready to hit anything that threatens you.

“Woah woah woah! I don’t want to fight ‘cha. Just put the jewelry back and I can ignore the deformation of glass windows you did out there. How about it, pal?”

You focus your gaze on this very talkative person getting in the way of your maintenance run before scoffing to yourself.

“Are you the quiet type? That’s fine! Lemme introduce myself. I’m Spider-Man and if you don’t put those back, you’re gonna have a bad time.”

“Me? A bad time?” You scoff. “Listen, kid, how about this. You go back to where you came from so you don’t end up with a body full of bruises.”

Spider-Man tilts his head. “Alright, I guess it’s fight time – ”

Time moves slowly in your eyes as you quickly slither your way behind him. He reacts faster than you think, but it is still no match for you and your reflexes. You hold his arm behind his back before flipping a switch on your gloves, making it shine a bright yellow, before scratching him deeply enough to land on the skin. You jump backward to give you and your opponent space.

Spider-Man flinches as he turns around in place trying to look at his wounds. “A scratch? Ow! That's not allowed – ”

His arms fall to the side like overcooked noodles.

“What’s going on?”

You pick at the cloth that got lodged into your nails. “I poisoned you.” You reply calmly as he begins to lose feeling in his legs.

“P-Poisoned? Am I going to die? –”

His voice is panicked, like a lost child, and you feel slightly bad.

_ Slightly. _

“No, you’re not going to die. You’re lucky that I don’t pack any lethal poison on simple runs like these. You’ll just have no control over your body for a few hours.”

Your irritation returns when your gaze lands on all the jewelry you couldn’t nab.

“That’s what you get for not minding your own business, Spider- _ Man _ . But whatever, I’m gonna go now! Sleep tight for me, would ‘cha?”

He begins to lose consciousness as his speech starts to have a drunken slur. “Wait, combe bwack, pwease!”

Spider-Man’s pleas fall on deaf ears and you easily exist through the opening you made. All his efforts are for nothing as he feels himself losing the fight to stay away.

“Suit Lady!” He says with his last breath of energy.

“I thought my name was Karen, Peter?” The A.I. responds.

“That doesn’t matter!” He exclaims in his sleepiest voice. “Call...Mister...Stark...”

The boy falls into a deep sleep in the middle of the robbed store.


	2. The Thing

“You know you falling asleep in the middle of a ransacked jewelry store is totally bad for P.R., right?” Tony Stark casually says as he prepares a plate of cheap Chinese food takeout in the kitchen of his penthouse. The windows overlook the other skyscrapers in the heart of Midtown Manhattan.

“You think I wanted to fall asleep?” Peter retaliates as he struggles to put the ointment on his back. “That lady was so mean. I told her to put the jewelry back and then she  _ poisons _ me! Can you believe that?”

“Fiesty. My type of gal.” Tony chuckles as he hands the boy the plate of food before digging into his own. “Anyways, don’t let this loss get to ya. Go home, wash up, do some homework, and forget about it.”

“What do you mean forget about it?”

“I mean forget about it as in, uh, erasing it from your mind? Y’know, moving on.”

“But Mr. Stark, this woman seems serious! She was like ‘this is totally, like, so easy’ about robbing one of the most secured jewelry stores in Queens! No normal thief can get into a place like that.”

“Kid, I can go rob a jewelry story naked if I wanted to.”

Peter cringes at the image in his head. “I mean, sure, but can’t you at least like, I dunno, search her up in a database?”

Tony takes one last bite of his food as he rolls his eyes. He waves his arms and a holographic screen appears in the front of both of them.

“Okay, tell me about this person.”

“Uh, fast and has sharp nails. Wore a hoodie that had chip dust on it.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., search up female thieves who like shopping at Forever 21, unhealthy snacks, and really good manicures. Actually, don’t bother ‘cause nothing will show up!”

Peter pouts.

“Ya see, this only works if the person you’re looking for has been on the map long enough to collect data. We just gotta wait until there’s more information.”

“Sure? But I’m sure there’s a way to catch her before she strikes!”

As soon as Peter finishes his sentence, Happy Hogun comes jogging into the room with his valet gear on.

“Tony, are you still going to the thing?”

“What thing?”

“Y’know! The thing.”

“You repeating ‘the thing’ is not going to help me remember what the thing is.”

Happy sighs as he hurriedly takes out his phone and pulls up the invitation on his screen to send it to his phone.

“Ahh, the thing.”

“Right, the thing.”

The billionaire puts his feet up on the couch and changes the on the extraordinarily big flat-screen television. “Nah, I’m not going to the thing.”

“Why are you not going to the thing?” Happy then turns to Peter, his glare making the poor boy sweat. “Is it ‘cause of you? Are you the reason why he’s not going to the thing?”

“I don’t even know what you guys are talking about!”

“The kid is here on superhero duty. He got canned by some lady who scratched him and made him go night-night.” Tony chuckles.

“Don’t say it like that!”

“I really don’t care what you superhero freaks do in your free time, but Tony this  _ thing _ \--” 

He slumps in his chair when he hears his name from Happy’s mouth. “You’re not gonna let this thing go, huh.”

“Looks who’s hosting it.”

Tony looks at his screen, zooming in on the intricacies of the invitation. 

“Oh.”

Peter looks around to both men, pleading for any information on what’s going on.

Tony puts a hand on the young boy’s shoulder, awkwardly rubs it. He gets some of the ointment cream on his own skin and wipes it on Peter’s suit. 

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, I’m kicking you out kiddo.”

“What?!”

“Looks like I really have to go to this thing tonight.” The billionaire grabs the boy by the suit fabric and guides him to the door.

“But Mr. Stark, this lady -- ”

“Like I said, forget about it. She’s not a threat. If she magically becomes a threat in the near future, I’ll get her. Go do some homework or go on a date or something.”

“But -- “

The door slams.

Peter pouts.

“I did all of my homework already!”


	3. Grab and Go

The cramped bedroom is made even crampier since the workstation is out. It faces the window, giving you the illusion of more room as you soak in the open streets that make up Bedford-Stuyvesant in Brooklyn. 

You haven’t looked at a clock in hours, but you know it’s afternoon since a wave of school children are making a ruckus on the street. There’s still some warmth left despite some weeks passing into the school year, and the little chickadees are cashing in on that sense of freedom for as long as they can.

The same can be said for you.

You study your gloves as you roll out the jewelry from the last heist. Not the sharpest diamonds in the world, but it’ll get the job done until you trip onto something better.

One by one, you remove each nail on the gloves and discard the toxic material in quarantined garbage next to you. You then search for a suitable replacement in the pile of new jewelry. It’s painstaking labor, but it pays off when you gaze on the final project.

“If this shit doesn’t work out, I should run my own Etsy!” You chuckle at your joke since no one else will do it for you.

You put your feet up on the mini-refrigerator next to the workstation and people-watch in peace. The streets are filled with even more people from before as the evening rush hour starts to head into its peak. 

Someone outside plays their car speaker the loudest it can be with some old school jams that send your heart back in time. It’s Stevie Wonder. Despite his songs being from decades ago, everyone in the area, no matter the age, starts dancing in their own unique way.

You too, as you start tapping your feet.

But then the phone rings, bringing you back to reality. It vibrates in the drawer of the workstation.

“What.” You greet when you flip it up.

The voice on the other line is computerized to hide its identity.

_ ‘Another big level heist. The pay ain't the highest, but it's a quick grab and go. Think you can handle it?’ _

You smirk as you open the mini-fridge and take out one of the dozen small flasks of yellow liquid and placing it next to your gloves.

“You know I only do big things around here, baby.”

\--

A warehouse in the middle of Staten Island didn’t seem interesting at all. In fact, you dreaded a job in the middle of nowhere on a borough nobody thinks of.

Or so you  _ thought _ .

Big men with bigger guns posted on every corner of the lot. Government-issued street lights make it impossible to move on the ground. Even drones buzz about from time to time!

The adrenaline pumps into your body. Once you complete a job like this, your ego will be bigger than the military-grade guns those security guards have.

You scan the scene from a tree not too far from the checkpoint to enter the warehouse. Trucks full of who knows what pass through quite often, but you’re waiting for a  _ specific _ truck. You get comfy on the tree branch, readying your newly fixed gloves and equipping your full face mask.

You pick at the specks of dirt lodged between the nails until your beeper goes off, signaling you to get shit started. With a careful but speedy crawl, you make your way down the tree and towards the incoming truck. It’s huge compared to the ones before, making it easy to slither under the vehicle and latch on.

Before you know it, the truck is moving into a secluded area and into the indoor garage. More big men with big guns help take whatever is in the truck and into another area as one stays back on watch.

You sigh as you give your neck a quick crack. 

He’s facing the area opposite of you, making grabbing the key card and knockout nice and easy.

The corridor is long and daunting as you scale the long gated ceiling, not risking a head to head battle with one of those huge guns.

You’re slick, not the Incredible Hulk.

You reach the end, jumping down quietly to analyze the locked gate. The keycard fits perfectly as the door unlocks.

The room is poorly lit compared to the other sections of the warehouse, and above everything else, it looks the most  _ boring _ . Nothing extravagant meets your eye, just a bunch of unfinished machines and techy junk.

In the middle of the room, however, is a poorly lit orb. It slowly floats up and down on a pedestal, signaling that there is something otherworldly about it.

You tilt your head as you study the item.

“Hm.” Is all you can muster up, captivated by how it calms your animalistic senses.

Too bad it ain’t what you came here for.

You continue to look around for the stupid thing, irritation growing as you start rummaging through piles of junk out of desperation.

“Aha!”

A green medium-length tube meets your grasp as you dig deeper into the junk pile. It matches the picture sent to your burner phone. Relief fills your body as you walk towards the way you entered the secluded room.

You take one last glance at the dim orb as you open the door.

The glance, however, was too long as you feel a kick in your chest, sending you back into the room.

You hiss at the unexpected pain as a shadowy figure starts crawling into the room from the ceiling.

“Heya lady who poisoned me the other day! How’s it been?”

You groan as you lay on your back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're from staten island, sorry for shitting on your borough.


	4. Dental

You poke at sticky substance used to bind your wrists to your ankles. Surprisingly, Spider-Man hasn’t called the cops or the other security figures, so it is just you two in the room.

He’s actually attempting to reach someone on his phone. For the third time.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t think they want to talk to you, so how about you just let me go real quick?”

“Criminals aren’t allowed to talk right now!” He spits back as he starts his fourth.

Your chuckle is cut short when the other line picks up.

_ ‘Whaddya want kid? You better be about to die, dying, or already dead for you to call me during hot yoga.’ _

“Mr. Stark! I caught her!”

_ ‘Caught who, a new girlfriend finally?’ _

“No! Poison lady!” Spider-Man quickly flips the camera to your constrained body.

“I would wave if I could.” 

“I said criminals aren’t allowed to talk!” Spider-Man flips the camera back onto himself. “Mr. Stark, what are the next steps?”

_ ‘Wait, show me the room again?’ _

Spider-Man does what he’s told.

_ ‘Motherfucker -- I’ll be there in 5. Keep her there.’ _

With that, the call ends.

There’s an awkward silence between you and the hero who took you down during a vulnerable moment.

“Is that your dad or something?” You ask, your tone showing how bored you are.

“I said criminals aren’t --” Spider-Man sighs as he looks at you from behind his mask. “He’s my mentor.”

“Ah.”

Awkward silence returns.

“So, like, you’re 14?”

He lowers his voice and widens his stance much like a prey trying to intimidate its predator. “No, I am a grown man!”

“Okay, Spider-Boy.”

You know you have him fuming and it raises a chuckle out of you.

“Why are you laughing? You’re about to go to jail.”

You shrug. 

He’s satisfied with that answer and keeps quiet. Not too long after, the room begins to shake slightly and crescendos as a machine fly in and land right in front of the two of you.

The mask lifts up to reveal none other than the one and only Tony Stark.

“Oh,  _ that _ Mr. Stark.”

“Ya darn right. And it’s  _ that _ Mr. Stark’s  _ warehouse _ you decided to put your grubby little fingers on!” He then turns to Spider-Man. “How did you know when she was going to hit?”

“Guess you can call it intuition. Y’know, spidey-senses?” He laughs nervously as he tries to rest an arm cooly on the worktable beside him. 

Tony Stark crosses his arms as he glares at the boy.

Spider-Man is defeated. “I come in here from time to time and play around in the scrap to create new gadgets. Her being here was totally random.”

“How do my guards let you in?”

“They don’t.”

The billionaire blinks as his mentee cowers under his stare. “Ok, fine, I’ll yell at you later.” He then turns to you. “I have another idiot to deal with right now.”

“Idiot?” You parrot.

“Yeah, only idiots think they can steal from me. Who sent you?”

“Good question.”

There is a beat of silence as you stare Iron Man down.

“Well, are you going to answer?”

“Oh.” You pause for a single sniff. “Hell no.”

“Okay, I get it. Someone is paying you the big bucks to go through my garbage --”

“Eh.” You interrupt. “It’s medium bucks. There were some other warehouses where the prices were doubled.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Wait, I wasn’t the most expensive?”

You shake your head.

“Who’s warehouses were more expensive to hit than  _ mine?” _

“I’m not telling you.” You sing, getting a rise out of teasing the narcissistic man.

A vein bulges in his forehead, signaling your victory. “Listen to me,  the items in the room, the items you stole — almost stole, ‘cause you know, you failed — are only known to a couple of Stark Industries employees.”

A part of you wishes your mask wasn’t on so you can show him how disinterested you are in this conversation. “Ok, so?”

Tony looks to Spider-Man. “Does she always have an attitude this big?”

“Yeah, it was worse when she poisoned me.”

“Ok, did you die though?” You scoff.

Iron Man studies you as he closes the distance. His stare is intense as you return one of your own from behind your mask, refusing to lose this battle. It must be a  _ tad  _ bit much, for he decides to circle you once instead. He meets back in front of you and crouches, continuing the stare down for a bit more. The gears of his mind are working as he gazes into your mask.

“What’s your point?” He says, erasing the silence and taking back command.

“My what?”

“What’s your goal? Why do you do this?”

“Money.”

“Duh. What else? Political power? Revenge? Underground empire?”

“Nah. Just the Benjamins.”

Tony is slightly taken aback, but amusement fills his brown eyes. “Just cheddar?”

“Mhm. Moolah.”

“Paper?”

“Guap.” You reply with a pop of the ‘P.’

“Okay!” Spider-Man interrupts. “She wants money, we get it!”

Tony lets out a chuckle before standing up. “Money hungry is something I can handle.”

“Whatcha mean?”

“I want you to work for me.”

You blink once as Spider-Man looks complete dumbfounded, even from behind his mask. “Excuse me?” You both say at the same time.

“Do you know how hard it is to get in here without alarming the guards? She might be useful to me.”

This man claiming you as his possession sends hot flashes of anger throughout your body. “Not that hard if the high schooler can come in here and play engineer.”

“Ok, you are  _ so  _ lucky you might be useful or else you would be in jail right now.”

“I think I’d rather be there than work for you.”

Tony groans like a spoiled child. “Look, you don’t like me and I  _ obviously _ don’t like you, but I’m willing you pay you  _ triple _ than whoever’s paying you to do the top job. I’ll even include dental insurance.”

You skip a breath at the inclusion of dental before suspicion creeps in. “Why do you want this so bad?”

The billionaire crosses his arms, obviously apprehensive in telling you information. You stare him down as he stares you in return once more. This time, however, you refuse to lose.

He sighs. “There’s a couple of warehouses that had vital tech disappear. If I can get the one doing the jobs on my side, I can figure out where this tech is going.”

“So you’re paying me to snitch? What if I told you I don’t know anything?”

“I’m a smart boy.” He winks as he equips his mask and starts to hover. “I can figure it out. But I need an ally.”

“What if I say no?”

“I’ll send you to jail for so long your children’s children would be grandparents.” 

That shuts you up real quick.

“Spider-Man will place a tracking device on you so you don’t run away. When you’re ready to meet up, just schedule an appointment using the dial on it.”

The mentee does what he is told as Iron Man flies out of the room.

“Don’t make the stupid decision!” He throws over his shoulder as he disappears down the corridor.


	5. Venom

Your feet are up on your workstation as you try to pry off the tracking device with a screwdriver. Its lodged pretty deep on the inside of your wrist, making it very difficult to shuck or cut it off without making a mess.

“I’m pretty sure my rights are being violated.” You groan to yourself as you give up.

Iron Man’s words ring in your head. Triple salary and _dental?_ This should be a no brainer. Loyalty was never a thing, you get all your jobs from a computerized voice on a throwaway phone.

Nope, it’s not about loyalty. You go wherever the paycheck is highest.

But the thought of you working alongside _Tony Stark_ and his _shit-eating grin --_

A knock on the door brings you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Granmomma ask if you’re joining us for dinner.” A teenage girl's voice rings through the door.

“No.” You say a little too sharply. This whole situation has you on edge.

“Hm, aight. I’ll tell her to leave ya plate in the fridge.”

“Good looks.” You try to genuinely thank her.

Your sensitive ears hear footsteps walk away from your door, bringing your attention back to your arm reanimating the animosity you feel. You take a deep breath to calm the rage in your chest and another one to prepare the call, much like how one prepares before they take a strong shot.

And you press the button.

A holographic screen appears from the tracking device with the billionaire on the screen. He looks greasy and sweaty with safety goggles over his eyes. A smirk caresses his lips when he sees your irked face.

“So this is what you look like without the mask.”

“Don’t talk to me like we’re friends. I’m here to accept the job.”

“Still with the shitty attitude I see.” He turns his attention to whatever he’s building and starts screwing as he speaks. “I’ll have a driver come to pick you up and sign the paperwork.”

“I’m not telling you where I live.”

“You don’t have to. Tracking device, remember? Keep up.”

Irritation builds up once more. “I already want to quit.”

“Yeah yeah, bring all the stuff you fight with. I gotta see what everyone else is paying you for.”

\--

Despite it being well after work hours, the people of Midtown Manhattan bustle about with their business. It’s a different kind of energy you don’t get to see back home. 

You stand in front of one of the tallest buildings in the area. Despite not personally knowing Tony Stark for more than a couple of days, you see how his character throughout the building. 

Inside the building is an elevator lobby with one security guard behind the desk. He looks incredibly tired and bored but toughens up when you walk in.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“What time?”

“Uh, now?”

He looks at his tablet. “Penthouse.”

“Uh, thank you!” You squeak at the man as you walk into the express elevator. He raises his eyebrows in acknowledgment right before the door closes. You can’t help but smile a little.

Before you know it, the elevator dings, but the door doesn’t open.

“What the hell?” You look around for the emergency open button, but a voice interrupts your search and nearly scares the socks off of you.

_‘Please place both thumbs on the pad in front of you.’_

You raise an eyebrow as you do what you’re told when the touchpad appears.

_‘Please scan both eyes into the pad in front of you.’_

“This is a little excessive, don’t you think?” You mumble to yourself.

_‘I do not ‘think.’ Please scan both eyes -- ’_

“Alright alright, I heard you the first time!” You complain as you comply with the A.I.

The doors finally open, revealing a studio twice the size of your whole house. It’s incredibly modern with projects all over. Robot arms are bustling about tidying things up as the engineer himself is lost in his craft at a project.

You walk around silently soaking in the mind that is Tony Stark.

“Hey! -- ”

“I didn’t steal anything yet, calm down.” You drop your bag of gear in front of him on top of his current project. He sends you a glare, and you reply with a smirk of your own.

A robot hand gives you a tablet and you make yourself comfortable on the chair across from him. You awkwardly pet it as a sign of thanks, and it twirls its head before rolling away.

“That is a contract indicating that you understand the transaction of services and the penalties for not adhering to those services. We’ll talk about the jobs you will have to do later.”

You quickly sign your name on the device. “Yeah yeah, I get paid if I do what I gotta do, go to jail if I don’t. Not much choice I got here.”

“Glad that you’re not entirely dumb.”

Your eyes oblong in irritation, and this time Tony sees.

“Wait, what did you just do?”

“Think about killing you.”

“Killing me is not in your job title, but whatever, I’m talking about your eyes. It did something super weird.”

“It does that sometimes. Look, why did you tell me to bring my stuff?” 

The billionaire puts his tools down and nods at you to follow him. He brings you to a gym area where he shuts the door behind you and watches from the glass window.

“Okie dokie. Killer robots will come out and try to kill you. Your first task is to not die.”

An alarm sets off and a wave of robots come start filing out. There are some with guns, knives, and other weapons.

_“What!”_ You screech as you try to make some distance.

“I repeat, don’t die.”

You give yourself one gasp of air as you crack your neck. With a step back, you pounce on one of the robots with a gun quickly dismembering it at the joints. You take the gun from the fallen robot and quickly shoot down the rest of the arm robots.

Great, the hard part is out of the way.

You flip back to create some distance once again to survey the remaining opponents. A handful left, nothing you can’t handle.

You jump up high in the air and land down on a robot before pouncing the closest one to the ground. One tries to take you on with a series of jabs, but you expertly dodge them all before counterattacking the machine, taking it apart piece by piece.

“Not even a sweat.” You triumphantly sing as you give your new boss the middle finger.

Suddenly, a strong grasp overcomes your hold body, squeezing you tighter and tighter by every passing second.

The last robot compresses your body against its own as you struggle against it.

Tony Stark watches with intense eyes, both hands clasps under his chin. Your body begins to crack against the hard metal frame, causing the billionaire to flinch. He starts to reach for the emergency stop button, but seeing you smirk stops him in his tracks.

Your body starts to contort in unusual ways, typically impossible for the regular human body. You manage to slither out of the robot’s grasp before dropping kicking it into the wall.

“Any more surprises, dickhead?” You groan as you stretch your leg behind your back to touch your head. “I’m all worked up now.”

Tony scratches his beard as he looks at your now incredibly acrobatic form. 

“So you can’t do weird shit with your body right out of the blue?”

“Nope.” You say as you arch your back backward onto the floor before doing a slow graceful hand flip on one finger. “Well, it’s possible. I just got lazy with stretching ‘cause jobs nowadays are so easy. There are a few stiff kinks in my body but once I iron them out, I’m golden until I cool down.”

The billionaire watches you move like a snake, totally enamored by the balance, flexibility, and strength of your body. He has to actively pull his mind back to the point of the assignment: to find out how you work.

“What about poison?”

You stop to look at him mid cartwheel. “There’s no poison.”

He frowns. “I don’t like liars.”

“I’m not lying, ugly. I’m not poisonous, I’m venomous.”

“I don’t care about semantics.”

“You should.” You say as you walk out the gym nearer to him, not removing your gaze. “Look.”

You open your mouth to reveal fangs. They look sharp and dangerous, but Tony closes the distance even more as fascination covers his eyes.

“Venom comes from your fangs?”

“Yup.”

“So why do you have the venom in your gloves?”

“I’m not a fan of biting people.”

Tony has a mischievous glint in his eye. “Damn, you’re no fun.”

“Enough before I file for sexual harassment, _metal man.”_

“I'm just letting you know how it is, _snakey._ ”

You walk away, resisting the urge to throw him into the wall. “I should’ve chosen jail.” 

“The option is still there, Snakey!”

Tony watches you hiss and walk away until you’re out of his sight, a wave of intrigue evident on his face the whole time.


	6. Assistant

You lay on the bed facing the ceiling as the sun comes down for the day. All the windows in your room are open, letting in the outside breeze that is slightly more healthier compared to Manhattan’s.

After the first ‘test,’ the billionaire let you go without much hassle.

_ ‘I’ll call ya when I finish making arrangements. If you do anything stupid, I will put your bendy flipping snakey ass in jail.’ _

You scoff. “Who the hell does he think he is threatening  _ me?”  _ Despite the nonchalant tone he used, you felt the seriousness in his voice which makes you even angrier.

It’s been a while since someone was able to put you on a leash, and it feels entirely wrong. Freedom stripped away because of a stupid kid. You hiss internally at the thought.

A ring emerges from your wrist where the tracker resides and you ignore it.

A screen showing a peeved billionaire appears anyways.

‘Did you just let me ring to voicemail?’

“I tried. Didn’t work.”

‘I’m not paying you to ignore me. Let it happen again and this arrangement is off.’’

The anger from the previous thoughts boils over. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

‘Get your ass to Stark Industries at 8 tomorrow morning. Business casual. I was going to offer you a ride but since your attitude is so bad, you can take the smelly train.’

“I  _ prefer _ the train because it’s the furthest concept away from  _ you.” _

He scoffs the attack at his ego away. ‘I can’t wait until you fuck up and I personally get to escort you to the penitentiary.’   
  


“Keep waiting, idiot.” You try to end the call much like how you do on your burner phone, but there isn’t a button for that.

“End the call!”

‘I’ll end the call when I want to end the call.’

A moment of silence passes.

‘I’m ending the call.’

With that, the screen disappears.

\--

You stand tall and agitated with your arms crossed, the aura piling from you is intense enough to repel the busy workers at Stark Industries to a safe distance.

Two hours late, that stupid man is. 

Not even a quick ping saying that he’s running late, and here you thought these shmancy pancy business people were always so professional.

As you’re fuming silently in the corner, Tony Stark comes casually strutting in.

“Follow me real quick.” He throws over his shoulder not bothering to stop or even greet you.

The irritation is building.

“Morning to you too.” You spat.

Despite his gaze being behind a pair of sunglasses, he looks at you for the first time today. “Oh, I didn’t know you did that.”

You roll your eyes. “Listen, why am I out here in broad daylight?”

The billionaire makes a sharp turn into a personal office that overlooks the busy streets of Midtown. It’s a view comparable to Tony’s penthouse.

At the desk sits a well put together woman with strawberry blonde hair.

“Ms. Potts! I need a small favor.”

She doesn’t even look up from her desk. “No.”

“Pretty please with vibranium on top? I have a new assistant and I need her on the system to have access to level B areas in the building ASAP.”

The world stops around you as you process the man’s words. 

She looks up from her paperwork and gives you a wide smile. “Oh! Sorry. Whenever I hear Tony’s voice I try my hardest to zone out. I’m Pepper Potts.”

You give her a small dead giggle, as your brain rolls over the word ‘assistant’ for the 30th time.

“What's your name?”

“She’s ‘Snakey’ in the system.” Tony answers before you do.

“Prints and everything are there already, so it should be no problem.” Pepper says as she finishes searching on the computer.

“Great, thank ya. By the way, you’re looking a little hungry, Ms. CEO. You should come --”

“I don’t think so, Tony.”

He shrugs as he pushes up his sunglasses. “Welp, it was worth a try. Starve while my shiny new assistant orders me Mexican.” He turns on his heel and exits the room. You’re left standing alone as Pepper gives you a small smile.

“Good luck with him. You’re gonna need it.”

You give her nod as you quickly follow your boss down the hall.

“Tony!”

He ignores, lost in his own thoughts.

_ “Tony!” _

Again, he ignores you.

Your rage erupts at avoidance along with the succession of your mental processing. You grab him by the shoulder and slam him into the wall, causing the empty hallway to shake slightly.

_ “Assistant!?"  _ You shriek at his face, eyes oblong with fury. Fangs start to show from your mouth as your grip gets tighter. “I didn’t sign up for this  _ shit!” _

“You did, actually.” The billionaire replies casually which only fans your flames. “Contract said I can put you to any job I want. I need a cover for you when you’re not in a suit, so, in the daytime you’re my assistant, nighttime we’re crime-fighting buddies!” His conclusion is dripping with a sarcastic joy that filled to the brim with bitterness.

You pinch your nose bridge as you release a deep breath that sounds like a dangerous hiss. “When am I getting paid?”

Tony shrugs. “Uh, in a month or two? Maybe 6? I dunno.”

“What do you  _ mean _ you don’t  _ know?” _

“Think of it as a probation. Be good and useful, you’ll get your money. Be bad and we will fight, you’ll lose, you know the rest.” He turns and continues down the hallway. “I want a steak quesadilla with a side of brown rice. Add a churro, too.”

As he turns the corner you punch the wall, leaving an intimidating dent before stomping behind your boss.


	7. Second Introductions

It’s about to be the end of the month.

In landlord speak that means rent is due.

You try to not let it bother you, savings are there for a reason. However, you quickly do the math of how long you can keep working for free. Eh, pretty long. You just can’t have any fancy purchases for a while.

Your arms are crossed as you sit at your new desk within Stark’s penthouse. It’s a small office with a working computer and a window or two, but it feels like a prison.

You know you’re only here so you can be watched, and it eats at your sanity.

There is literally nothing to do but sit and stare at a wall. If you’re feeling adventurous, you can stare out the window and imagine having a life.

You groan as you lean back in your chair. It squeaks a little bit, causing your sensitive ears to jump. 

Faint footsteps follow the squeak, instinctively causing you to look up.

Your gaze falls on a teenage boy who tries his best to sneak a peek through the glass wall. A smirk grows as your senses tell you that this boy is no stranger.

“I can see you, Spider-Man.”

He sighs and enters the room. “Um, hi.”

“Hi.”

Your fixed stare makes him apprehensive as he looks down at his feet. He tries to find words to speak, but nothing comes out.

You roll your eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Peter. Peter Parker.”

“Okay, Peter.” You pause. “My bad for making you sleep. Not gonna lie, seeing that you’re  _ actually _ a kid, I kinda feel bad.”

Peter makes eye contact with you for the first time. “Hey! I’m not a kid!”

“Woah, sorry big man.” You chuckle. “The apology still stands, though.”

He gives a small nod, acknowledging your regret. “Sorry for, um, putting that tracking thingy in your arm. You were the bad guy.”

“Were?” You parrot as you tilt your head.

The teenage boy shrugs. “I mean you still are, but like, better than before? The goodness in you increased 2 percent tops. So I would say criminal with three pinches of ‘not  _ totally  _ evil.’”

“You can just save your breath and say it’s complicated.”

“Oh, that works. You’re complicated!”

“Yeah, genius. Just like everyone else here.”

Peter can’t help but nod at the simple idea.

‘ _ Snakey!’  _ The intercom of a certain billionaire enters the room uninvited. The teenage boy looks at you with a raised eyebrow as you pinch your nose bridge.

“You make me want to commit murder.”

_ ‘That’s against your contract. Come down to the studio with a bottle of purified water from Fiji.’ _

“Where the fuck am I supposed to get that?”

“Oh, Mr. Stark has a special tank of Fiji water in his kitchen.”

You can’t help but ruffle his hair as you fulfill your menial task for the bossman. “Thanks, kid!”

Peter shoos you off as any teenager would.

\--

Tony is entrenched into his current project as robots whirl around him, giving any tool the billionaire requests without moving from his seat. It’s obvious that he’s in his zone.  Of course, you pull him out of that zone as you drop his fancy water bottle in front of him.

He sighs as he drops his tools. “Can’t you be a little bit more graceful as an assistant?”

Before you can reply with the obvious answer of ‘no’, Peter drops his bag in shock.  _ “Assistant?!” _

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

The billionaire gulps half of the bottle down before attempting to smooth over this situation. “Look. I can’t say she has an internship like you -- “

“Internships are given to adults all the time.” You interject.

“Not if they’re full time. The last thing I need is P.R. disaster over the fact that I don’t pay my workers.”

You cross your arms. “But you  _ don’t  _ pay your workers.”

“You haven’t gotten paid yet?” Peter gasps.

“Kid, you aren’t helping -- “

“Nah, I haven’t. Mr. I-Own-Everything here thinks everyone has his wallet.” You sit on the table next to his project and look at him with slightly oblong eyes. “You’re lucky I have savings or else I would give you a hard time about this.”

Tony returns a glare of his own. “Your threats aren’t working.”

“Who said I was threatening you? It’s just a tidbit of information.”

The silence raises the tension in the room as neither of you wants to back down from one another. This fight for power has become a regular thing as of late, but you can’t help but add a tinge of humor.

Peter feels the pressure and goes on his phone in an attempt to alleviate the stress.

The corner of your mouth lifts up a little as the billionaire begins to speak. “Do you like doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being a pain in my ass.”

“Only when I’m on the job. I forget about you when I get home.”

There he goes with a certain playful glint in his eye. “I somehow doubt that. Do you see how cute my smile is?” He flashes you a grin. “Hardly forgettable.”

“Maybe I would miss it if you would stop fucking calling me off the clock.” You jump off the table and brush the invisible dust off your skirt. “Am I finished here? May I go back to my prison cell -- I mean  _ office _ and count how many buildings there are in Midtown Manhattan?”

“Yes, you may. You get a sticker for asking nicely.”

_ “You get a sticker for asking nicely.” _ You mimic unabashedly as you leave the room. Your steps continue up the stairs before disappearing completely and Tony returns to his project as Peter scrolls on his phone.

The billionaire looks up from time to time, catching glimpses of the young boy blushing at his phone.

“If you have a girlfriend, why are you here instead of on a date?” He perks up after minutes of silence. The question catches Peter off guard, causing him to spazz out.

“She’s not my girlfriend! Uh, she’s, uh. She’s my lab partner. I just think she’s, well, uh, cute.” The ending of the sentences is a mere whisper as he makes himself smaller. “We’re trying to find a place where we can start the presentation together.”

“Young love, how innocent. I got a lab room in the back that's not totally dangerous. You can bring your not-girlfriend here to work if you don’t have any other place. Just make sure to tell Snakey so she could put it on the security details.”

Peter jumps from his seat to hug Tony, causing the latter to wiggle out of his grasp and morph the hug into a handshake. 

“Thank you thank you, Mr. Stark. I promise we won’t break anything!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Silence returns as Peter excitedly tap on his phone and Tony returns his attention to his project.

“Kid.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“Whaddya think of Snakey?”

“Snakey? Is that really her name?”

“No. Answer the question.”

The boy shrugs. “She apologized to me.”

That causes the billionaire to look up. “For what?”

“Poisoning me.”

“Oh, you still didn’t get over that?”

“Are people supposed to  _ get over _ being poisoned?”

“I would.” Tony wipes his forehead with a clean rag. “She’s not a complete bitch. I can’t wait until she says sorry to me for trying to steal my stuff. Or at least a kiss on the foot.”

“Mr. Stark, I don't think it’s politically correct to call the only woman you work with that misogynistic slur.”

“Oh. Can I say her panties were too tight?”

Peter sighs. “One can argue how that’s actually worse.” 

Tony shrugs. His gaze lingers over the spot you hopped on the table. The quirk of your lips is engraved into his memory.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind if she poisoned me, actually.”

“La-la-la-la!” Peter sings as he bounces up from his seat, covering his ears. “I can’t hear you outwardly think about how the woman you work with, is like, hot and stuff! I’m just a high school intern!”

Tony chuckles. “I didn’t say I thought she was hot. I said the act of her poisoning me would be hot. You think she’d be into that, though? -- ”

“La-la-la!!!” Peter continues to sing as he hurriedly exits the studio, not being able to take any more of this conversation.


	8. Beebee’s Burgers

You make your way down the stairs to the studio with two bags of dinner from the local burger joint down the street. He has had his lunch from there for the past week, dinner shouldn’t be any different.

The studio door is locked, confirming your beliefs of him having no breaks. Through the glass you peek at the billionaire ordering his robot minions different items. 

With a swipe of your card, you enter the workspace.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., run a simulation of the Cobra in a damp environment.”

The A.I. does what she is told and runs a hologram of a new suit in the rain. You watch him watch the screen, the mechanics of his mind working evident on his face. He’s totally engrossed in his project that he doesn’t notice your presence.

One of the robot arms nudges your hand. You giggle as you pet it on the head.

Your laugh pops Tony’s engineer bubble.

“What are you still doing here?” He asks cautiously as he fiddles with the hologram once more.

You hold up the bags of dinner. “You didn’t bother me all day, so I assume you didn’t eat yet.”

He rubs his stomach. “Beebee’s Burgers?”

“Beebee’s Burgers.” You confirm as you place the food on the table. “Eat. I can’t get paid if you die from malnourishment.”

He digs into his burger, speaking between bites. “How very sweet in a capitalistic way. You sure you’ve never worked in this industry before?”

“Positive. What are you working on anyways?”

“Your suit.”

You almost choke on a fry. “Oh! Gimme gimme!!”

“You gotta give me a day to finish simulations -- “

“I just wanna try it on!”

He loudly slurps on his milkshake as he stares you down. You return the stare, but yours is doused with a pleading pout.

“Fine.” He presses a button on the table to reveal the suit behind a glass case. It’s a sleek jumpsuit with a shiny scaly look all over. The mask has eyes like the Spider-Man suit, but sleeker. 

You look closely at the arms to see sharp claws on the tips of the gloves. The sight makes your excitement rise even more as you fumble the suit off the mannequin.

“Would you be careful? This isn’t an old sweatshirt from Goodwill.”

“I’m surprised you know what a Goodwill is. Turn around.”

The billionaire lazily turns around. “I’m currently working on a new fiber that will relax your muscles without needing to stretch. I’m still running tests, but I want you to stretch for two hours everyday so you’ll be at peak performance.”

“So like, what, are you sending me to yoga class?”

“More so yoga class is coming to you. I want you to find and hire an acrobatics teacher -- “

“For what? I don’t need a teacher, just give me space in a gym and let me do my shit.” You snarl as you equip your claws. They’re sharper and cleaner than any of your past suits, but your pride prevents you from telling the man that. 

“Again, being a pain in my ass. What equipment do you need?”

“A speaker. The expensive kind that’s nice and loud.” You slide the remaining part of the suit, the mask, over your head. Your vision is immediately bombarded with a HUD system showing vitals, maps, and other things.

A voice talks within the mask.

_ ‘Prototype Queen Cobra has been accessed. Welcome, Ms. Snakey.’ _

“I get my own A.I., too?”

“Yup.” Tony answers with a pop of the ‘P.’ “Can I turn around now?”

“Gimme a mirror.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., give the spoiled lady what she wants.”

A hologram screen appears in front of you as you soak in the image of yourself. You look dangerous and polished. You run your hands over the suit and it mends to the contours of your body elegantly. 

A quick turn to look at your ass.

You can’t help but whistle. “Okay, look.”

The billionaire turns and does a whistle of his own. “Wow, I’m a genius.”

“Eh.” You refuse to enlarge his pride even more despite the magnificent creation on your body. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, okay times infinity.” He looks you up and down. “You look good. Not as good as me though.”

“You talk quite recklessly to someone who has claws that can cut through a car.”

“I live a dangerous life.” He shrugs lazily as he tosses a tiny vial. “I haven’t included your venom in the suit yet ‘cause I need another sample. Start squirting.”

You cringe. “I hate your language choice.”

He flashes you a grin of his shiny white teeth. “Doing things you hate keeps me young and pretty.” 

You click your teeth at him as you snatch the vial from his hands. The normal front teeth in your mouth morph into sharp fangs that slowly drip a yellow liquid in the small bottle. 

Tony watches with small focused eyes. The innate curiosity of the genius takes over him and he makes a little step towards you. His mind is working as he tries to understand your biology, but it is cut short when the bottle fills up.

“Staring is rude, you know.” You snap as you lazily toss him the bottle.

He catches the bottle with the hem of his shirt. “You know what’s even ruder? Throwing your bottles of poison -- ” 

“Venom!”

“Doesn’t matter, it can still kill me!”

You shrug before returning to check yourself out in the mirror. “When can I keep my suit?”

“You don’t  _ keep _ it. It stays here until trouble starts and it comes back when it ends.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

It’s his turn to shrug and he does it with glee.


End file.
